


it's not the waking

by vaudelin



Series: Tumblr fic [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, M/M, Panty Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: “Panties,” Dean murmurs, disbelieving. His hands instinctively reach for the tops of the garter, his thumbs running over the black hose, the soft silk and crisp lace.Having Dean’s gaze finally upon him brings a sudden heat to Castiel’s skin, a mixture of desire and shame flooding through him at Dean’s muted response. “You said you liked this.”





	it's not the waking

**Author's Note:**

> [Spanish translation available](https://www.wattpad.com/802005271-it%27s-not-the-waking-destiel-traducci%C3%B3n-os-%E2%9C%93-it%27s) by [casdean_s](https://www.wattpad.com/user/casdean_s) (thank you!!).

When Dean doesn’t react to the hand upon his shoulder, Castiel makes the executive decision to continue pulling the woolen blankets down. Slowly, because despite how deeply Dean can slumber, one wrong motion with the sheets will have Dean reflexively pointing a knife or a gun at Castiel’s face.

With the blanket drawn down to Dean’s waist, the sheets quickly following suit, Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the Dean that greets him in the dim morning light. The soft rise and fall of the slope of his back. The freckles flecked across his bare shoulders. The slight snuffle as Dean digs his cheek more firmly into the pillow. The flex of his hand as he seeks out the cooling sheets Castiel so recently vacated.

Castiel succumbs to temptation, lifting a hand up to graze the curve of muscle raised on Dean’s shoulder, where his cheek rests snugly against his bicep. He touches his fingertips to the shorn hairs on the nape of Dean’s neck, tickling through them before dragging his fingers down over spine.

The knobs of Dean’s back pass fluidly beneath his palm, the touch kept delicate and light. Castiel settles both hands upon Dean, his fingers fanning out over each shoulder blade. Gently, he slides his hands down both sides of ribs, over the softness above Dean’s hips. Castiel adjusts, leaning on one arm, and twists the angle of his touches, arrowing the fingers of one hand down as he palms the curve of Dean’s ass, blankets bunching around his wrist as he passes.

Dean groans into the pillow, drawing one knee up along the bed. Castiel takes the excuse to kiss Dean’s shoulder, and dip his fingers into Dean’s exposed cleft. His thumb rubs gently at Dean’s hole, a featherlight touch that darts quickly aside. A slight shudder runs through Dean, his hips rising in the pursuit of contact.

“Stop teasing me so much,” Dean grumbles. He blindly reaches behind him, grappling until his grip successfully lands on Castiel’s wrist.

Dean draws him down with little fanfare, tucking Castiel’s arm around him until his stolen hand is cupped around Dean’s stiffening cock. Castiel sighs and fits himself more snugly against Dean, chest to back, while keeping their hips pointedly apart.

Castiel pumps Dean’s cock in a slow rhythm, allowing Dean time to adjust from dreams into wakefulness. Dean holds him firm, his body grinding against Castiel’s wrist. He hauls his knee up higher, and makes a point of kicking aside their blankets. Castiel keeps his distance despite how desperately Dean’s hips are seeking his own.

“The fuck,” Dean mumbles. He lets go of Castiel’s hand, props himself on one elbow to look at him.

Castiel leans down and kisses Dean’s shoulder again. “Turn around. I have a present for you.”

Dean hums, dropping petulantly onto the mattress.

“One you’ll like,” Castiel adds. He drags a thumb over the leaking head of Dean’s cock, earning a pleasant shudder that rumbles through them both.

“Thought the handjob was the present,” Dean says, grinding down in emphasis.

“A surprise, then.” Castiel retrieves his hand from between Dean’s legs, to which Dean brokenly whimpers at the loss. He fits his fingers between Dean’s limp fingers, and he touches his lips to Dean’s ear, softly kissing there before he murmurs, “Let me show you.”

Dean groans, still moued, but he allows Castiel to draw their entwined hands backward. Castiel mimics Dean’s earlier boldness and fits Dean’s palm to the underwear currently entrapping Castiel’s groin.

Dean stirs at the first touch of silk, his fingers blindly seeking out the ribbon bow above Castiel’s erection. Castiel lifts his weight so that Dean can shuffle around beneath him, turning until Castiel can drop down into Dean’s bare lap. Dean blinks through the sleep clouding his eyes, squinting through the dim lamp light.

“Panties,” Dean murmurs, disbelieving. His hands instinctively reach for the tops of the garter, his thumbs running over the black hose, the soft silk and crisp lace.

Castiel adjusts until he’s sitting comfortably, his clothed cock brushing up against Dean’s bare stomach. Having Dean’s gaze finally upon him brings a sudden heat to Castiel’s skin, a mixture of desire and shame flooding through him at Dean’s muted response. “You said you liked this.”

Dean blinks rapidly, pulling back to himself. “I do, Cas. Jesus, yes I do—but I didn’t think you’d—”

“I would,” Castiel says quickly. He wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders, holding him close and kissing him. “For you, anything.”

Speechless, Dean tucks his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck, breathing hard. His hands slide up Castiel’s back before drawing down again, cupping fully around Castiel’s ass.

Castiel takes the invitation and spreads his legs wider, the blue silk of the underwear stretching out, exposing the damp spot created by his cockhead beneath the garter’s waist. Dean stares down between them, his palms firmly planted on the stretched lace. He runs a hand up to the small of Castiel’s back and slides it down beneath the underwear. Castiel relaxes into the fingers Dean presses against his hole, tucking his chin in to kiss the crown of Dean’s head.

Dean curses, his fingers drawing back wet. “Christ, you’re ready.”

Castiel hums, drawing closer. “I told you it was a present.”

Dean groans, and with a sharp jolt upwards, he flips Castiel down onto his back.

Castiel takes to the mattress readily, allowing his legs to fall open and wanton, to better fit Dean. Dean, who leans in and deeply kisses him, touching tenderly at Castiel’s cheek before his hands draw like lodestones down to the silk encapsulating Castiel’s hips.

Castiel moans as Dean maps his lips down his chest. He kisses and lavs his way across each nipple before meandering downward, his hot breaths gusting over Castiel’s belly. Castiel cants up his hips when Dean draws the lace garter away from the underwear, snapping the buckles open from the hosiery. Then Dean is mouthing hot, breathy kisses to the front of the silk underwear, his tongue outlining the straining weight of Castiel’s erection.

“C’mon, Cas, touch me,” Dean pants, and so Castiel fits a hand into Dean’s hair and tugs him downward, until Dean’s nose is flat to Castiel’s skin and his mouth is soaking the silk against Castiel’s dick. Dean scrabbles his fingers beneath the underwear like a child overeager to unwrap birthday gifts, tugging until Castiel’s cock springs free and Dean has unimpeded access to Castiel’s twitching hole.

The underwear ends up draped over one of Castiel’s ankles as Dean fucks into him, frantic save for the gentle pace Dean tries desperately to pursue. Castiel goads him on by flexing his thighs, his hands cupped to Dean’s jaw as he kisses him, maddeningly sweet. Castiel bears down until Dean is flush inside of him, the backs of his thighs met with the tops of Dean’s, and then Dean is circling his hips and pistoning into him, his rhythm knocked askew by only the breaths he’s forced to catch each time Castiel breaks their kiss.

Castiel takes hold of one knee and hoists it higher, knowing how Dean loves when Castiel is able to take more of him for longer, deeper. Dean responds by fitting the crook of his elbow beneath Castiel’s hold, allowing Castiel to drop the weight of his leg solely onto Dean.

“So fucking hot—” Dean breathes, straight into Castiel’s ear, cock throbbing inside of him. The lacy tops of the garter hose are beginning to chafe with Dean’s thrusting, but Castiel can’t seem to mind it when Dean is busy reaching a place inside of him so seldom felt that it seems like magic Castiel freshly discovers each time they come together.

Castiel shifts his grip along Dean’s back as Dean begins to shudder, his thrusts growing sloppy as his orgasm crests inside Castiel. Dean settles heavily in the immediate aftermath, secure in the fact that Castiel can easily bear his weight, cuddling into the nest built by Castiel’s arms. When his facilities return, Dean makes a mission out of bringing Castiel his own climax, sucking Castiel’s cock until Castiel is shivering and panting beneath him.

Dean takes a mouthful of come as Castiel finally orgasms, and uses the silk panties to mop up the rest of the mess now leaking onto their bed. When he’s done, Dean unfolds the underwear across Castiel’s lap and looks at it with a peculiar expression, speaking only once Castiel has raised a brow and brought a blush to Dean’s face.

“Just like the look,” Dean mumbles, gaze darting. He bunches up the underwear, quickly tossing it aside.

Castiel touches a finger and thumb to Dean’s chin, drawing him in. He kisses Dean softly, until Dean knows there is no shame to his desires, not the least while they’re together.

“Would you like to do this again?” Castiel murmurs after, when they’ve wrapped themselves up in each other, whiling away the morning with lazy touches and kisses.

Dean shuffles and sighs, his face obscured by the way his head rests upon Castiel’s chest. He mumbles something that Castiel easily hears, but still Castiel encourages him to say with some strength: “Next time, I get to wear ‘em.”

Castiel smiles, his cheek pressed into the top of Dean’s head. “I can agree to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> for the [tumblr prompt](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/post/185465514228/17-mobile-pleaseeee): _“Stop teasing me so much.”_


End file.
